Bebe, "Warrior Princess": ..30 seconds.

Thirty seconds...it doesn't seem like a long time, right? But thirty seconds can feel like an eternity depending on the situation. Driving home from a family trip in Gatlinburg this past weekend Chad, Bebe and I were all singing & dancing to music. We were acting like the silly family we are. We try to savor the times we have together and really enjoy each other. Par for the course, I suppose. We grabbed some Starbucks on our way out of town & hopped up on the interstate. I hadn't even taken the green stopper stick out of my coffee when we heard a familiar short scream. It is almost an abridged screaming cry and when I hear it, my heart & lungs generally stop functioning. That quick scream quickly turned into a gargled clicking sound. Chad could see Bebe first as he wheeled around in his seat & I could see the fear overtake his eyes as he's looked at her & yelled out "Oh God, she's having a seizure." In the literal millisecond that it took me to turn around, I started seeing her spitting up blood as her sweet body convulse. Beyond that, I'll be honest, my heart really can't describe the rest of what I saw and I am sure no one is really interested in the details. I do remember yelling at Chad to pull over & call 9-1-1 now. Even though it had been almost 2 full years since her last seizure, this was not the first time we had watched her have a seizure. But, the blood out of her mouth changed everything. I did not know where the blood was coming from and the gargling made me quite concerned that she may be aspirating and that made me very fearful very quickly. Chad quickly pulled to the shoulder of the interstate atop an overpass. I was almost in the backseat from the inside before we even came to a stop. Cars continued to wiz past, funny enough, as if their lives were not standing still like ours. Thirty seconds....for a solid thirty seconds, I panicked. My heart immediately ran down the list of "what if's". There was that instantaneous moment of "am I watching my child die" that entered my brain and I tried to function amidst the chaos of emotions raging inside me. Intellectually and apart from the moment, I fully understand that seizures themselves are normally pretty benign in nature, especially short ones. But emotionally, in that moment, I felt like I was watching my child die. In fact, watching my child on respirators and crazy machines in the past, I actually can not think of anything more difficult to watch than to watch my child seize. My "flesh" was in total control----or out of control, I guess I should say. My emotions were driving me & nothing else in the entire world mattered. I snatched Bebe from her car seat, laid her down in my seat & gave her the Diastat in probably 5 seconds total. I picked her back up & held her close to my body...pacing the emergency lane of an interstate clustered with cars, trucks, SUVs and 18 wheelers flying past. This is where the 30 seconds began to calm...yes, B was still seizing, but "my flesh" finally gave way to the Peace of the Lord. That 30 seconds had been horrible. The feeling of panic & overwhelming fear & complete lack of control. But, the Peace of the Lord came & I could feel myself relax. I continued to pace, which seemed scary before --- but then I realized that onlooking vehicles saw me holding a small child & they parted like the Red Sea. I started praying for our safety as I knew we were not in a safe location & had made an instant & emotion based decision to stop at a dangerous location. I remember looking over the side of the overpass as I paced and spoke to Bebe. For those that know me well know I am literally petrified of heights. I almost chuckled when I looked over thinking how the word petrified really pales in comparison to what I had felt during those 30 seconds. I wasn't even afraid of being on the side of a busy interstate, holding my seizing child, pacing atop an overpass. I wasn't afraid anymore at all. It was about this point when I realized it was literally freezing outside & that both Bebe & I needed to get back inside the vehicle. Emergency workers arrived & transported us to the hospital. On the trip to the hospital, the EMT said "I knew when we arrived that she probably had a history & some really strong parents for that matter, you were so calm." In my head I thought, "Calm, really? Glad you didn't catch the first 30 seconds, dude, you would have thought I was crazy." It was an ordeal, an ordeal with a happy ending. B is fine, she severely bit down on the inside of her upper lip which swelled up to about 3 times its normal size & she dislodged a tooth that they pushed back in place for now. They increased her daily seizure medication (medication that we had planned on weening her off of since she had gone so long without a seizure----guess not). In the big picture, I guess 30 seconds of sheer terror is not really a big deal. Chad, being the amazing man he is, said "they always say she doesn't remember any of this stuff"...to which I softly responded "but unfortunately we do." I hate that I still have the mental image & I am thankful that I have a terrible time of remembering things. I pray that the mental image will fade & it won't stop my heart anymore when it comes to mind. On our way home, Chad & I discussed how we were thankful for so much during the process. I was so grateful that our family was not together---it is hard enough for us to watch..I would not wish for anyone to have to watch her go through this. We recounted how thankful we are that this is not our everyday life. This is not our normal, and unfortunately I know it is for other families. My heart hurts for them & I am amazed by them all at the same time. Chad & I also discussed what a hand God had on us that day. I had literally put her diaper bag (the bag that I almost forgot at home at the first of the weekend---the bag that we didn't really need for the trip home so almost got packed amongst the chaos of our back seat/cargo area---the same bag containing her Diastat) literally within reach of where I was & where she was. Also, in the great distance between Gatlinburg & home, there is a vast interstate of rural America. In the several hours of road, I think there may be 1 - 2 hospitals that would be really understanding of Bebe & our situation. That ambulance ride I told you about, yeah it was literally 10 minutes from where she had her seizure to East Tennessee Children's Hospital in Knoxville. So, we were in just the right place. Because when I get outside of those first 30 seconds, the Lord reminds me that He has everything under control. He goes before us, and behind us, and beside us and with us. I hope there never is a next time, but if there is----I pray that I will get my "I think I have some semblance of control in life & so I am going to take all of the weight of this situation on my shoulders & so I am going to completely flip out" time down from 30 seconds. I know I am human & I fully own that. I am thankful that the Lord is willing to forgive me for my extremely selfish 30 seconds when I thought I could handle it on my own. MAN, oh MAN, does it lift the burden when I take something off my own shoulders & give it back to the Lord. I have said before, Chad & I don't ever really wonder "why us". At the end of the day, the truth is that we don't have any control here. We always pray for B's complete healing. And we know with every ounce of our souls that God is able to do that. Even still, we want our child to be exactly WHO God created her to be. And most of all, we pray that her life touches people and points them to God. She is a miracle---every single day. She is an absolute miracle. And we choose to look at our situation as an opportunity to shine the light of Jesus. We are so grateful that the Lord gave her to us, just the way she is.